Chapter 220: The "Troup" of Wildman Ditch |
Lu Yuan felt the cool jade pendant Gu Qingwan had pressed against his chest, and his heart gave an inexplicable jolt.
But before he could say anything more, the fingers that had hooked his collar loosened.
"...Got it."
Lu Yuan replied softly, then turned and pushed the door open.
The door closed gently behind him, sealing the side hall filled with sandalwood incense and dragonwood scent.
It was already the latter half of the night, the small hours before dawn.
Zhenlong Temple was silent, save for the wind moaning through the pine forest and the occasional cry of a night owl far off.
Moonlight was blocked by heavy clouds, leaking only a pale dim glow that made the temple buildings appear shadowy and indistinct.
The square, which had seemed noisy after the expansion, was now deserted.
like great beasts crouched on the ground, mouths agape, waiting to swallow something.
Lu Yuan walked slowly along the bluestone path, his steps uneven. He usually moved quickly here, but tonight he walked unusually slowly.
The last place he had to go was, of course, to the old man.
He had walked this path countless times.
In the past, even from a distance, he could always hear the old man's thunderous snores, or smell the cheap strong liquor drifting from the window cracks.
Back then Lu Yuan would wrinkle his nose in annoyance while planning how to wake the old man.
But today a dull heaviness pressed at his chest like nothing he'd felt before.
Since he had been transmigrated to this world over a year ago, followed the old man traveling south and north, and later settled at Zhenlong Temple,
Lu Yuan had never seen the old man like this.
In Lu Yuan's memory, this makeshift master, though eccentric and drunk most days, had been a decisive, ruthless figure within the Daoist circles beyond the Great Wall.
Even plastered drunk, when real trouble came, he could stumble to his feet and solve it.
That had been Lu Yuan's greatest confidence.
It was like being a child who, whenever the sky seemed to fall, just had to look up and see parents there and feel it was all right.
But now the ever-drunk old man lay motionless on that hard plank bed.
The feeling was strange and unsettling.
It was as if a child who always cooled off beneath a great tree one day found the tree uprooted.
Still not grown enough to stand alone, he had to brace himself and face the storm.
Unconsciously, Lu Yuan arrived at the old man's door.
The door was tightly shut. No snores, no smell of liquor, only a deathlike stillness.
Several disciples guarded the door, sitting on little stools hugging their knees to nap.
At the sound of Lu Yuan's footsteps they startled awake and rose to salute.
"Brother Lu!"
Lu Yuan nodded slightly and waved them off, signaling no need for formality.
"Thanks for staying up."
"I'm going in to check on Master."
The disciples hesitated, then only nodded.
"The abbot's condition is stable, but he hasn't regained consciousness."
Lu Yuan acknowledged this and gently pushed the door open.
No lamp burned inside; only faint moonlight filtered through the window.
The room smelled strongly of medicine, with a faint trace of alcohol.
Li Xiuye lay quietly on the earthen kang, covered by a thick quilt, his face waxen and his lips chapped.
His breathing was so faint the rise and fall of his chest was barely visible.
He looked like a piece of desiccated wood, waiting silently to rot or to be reborn.
Lu Yuan stood at the bedside, watching for a long time.
He showed no expression...
In any case he didn't cry, didn't shed little pearls.
The old man wasn't dead.
He was only in a coma.
And his condition was stable now; sooner or later he'd wake.
So why cry?
Lu Yuan didn't indulge in melodrama; who was he telling? That'd be pure madness.
If he had thoughts, he'd only mutter them inwardly.
He stood at the kang a long while, saying nothing, making no move—just standing there like a piece of wood.
After some time, Lu Yuan wiped his face.
He reached out and tucked the quilt tighter around Li Xiuye. His fingers brushed the old man's dry, shriveled hand, icy to the bone.
"Let's go."
Lu Yuan inhaled deeply, forced down the inexplicable sourness in his chest, then glanced once more at the old man on the sickbed.
He turned and slipped out of the room without a sound.
The door closed again, locking the smell of medicine and the silence inside.
Lu Yuan reentered the midnight darkness. He had taken only a few steps when he saw two silhouettes waiting under an eave not far off.
It was Xu Erxiao and Wang Cheng'an.
They were clearly prepared for a long journey, no longer in their usual casual work clothes.
Each wore an indigo coarse-cloth Daoist robe, a wide belt at the waist, and pants rolled high—neat and energetic.
Xu Erxiao was stocky, and on his back hung a long peachwood sword sheath wrapped with red silk.
Though the sword was peachwood, its surface glowed with polish, bearing the patina of years.
At his waist dangled a palm-sized brass compass, its needle trembling slightly with his breath.
Most noticeably, strapped to his back was a chest nearly half a person high, bound tightly with coarse hemp rope; it likely brimmed with cinnabar, talismans, ink-waxed thread, copper bells, and assorted small items needed for jobs.
Wang Cheng'an was much leaner. His peachwood sword was slightly shorter than Xu Erxiao's, slung across his back and tied with red silk as well.
His compass looked newer, the face clean.
He carried a similar chest that seemed to emphasize finer tools.
A probing occult measure of varying lengths poked out from the seam.
When they saw Lu Yuan, both hurried over. The teasing smiles were gone, replaced by a solemnity beyond their years.
"Brother Lu."
Xu Erxiao lowered his voice, his throat tight.
"We've packed everything."
Wang Cheng'an nodded and added,
"Elder Zhou prepared three fast horses, tied on the back mountain path, ready to go."
Lu Yuan looked at the two boys who had aged overnight in his eyes; the sourness in his chest was eased slightly by a steadier feeling.
He nodded once, said little, and then in a low voice:
"Let's go."
Without more words, the three strode across the silent square in single file toward the back gate of Zhenlong Temple.
At the back gate, Zhou Shouzuo was already waiting.
Three sturdy horses pawed the ground and snorted in the night, sensing the long ride ahead.
Heavy saddlebags were strapped on, with water skins and rations hanging at the saddles.
Zhou handed the reins to Lu Yuan and spoke quietly,
"Senior Brother, the road is long; be careful."
"I'll watch over things at the temple, rest assured."
Lu Yuan took the reins, swung up, tightened the restless horse, and glanced once at Zhenlong Temple standing mute in the night.
He looked at the side hall that still had a light on, and then at the blackened bedroom.
"Ride out."
With a low command, Lu Yuan urged the horse. The black-maned steed shot forward like an arrow out of a bow.
Hooves shattered the stillness on the temple's back mountain. The three horses raced north along the rugged path toward Wildman Ditch.
Though it was late at night, the season had passed the awakening of insects; the spring chill beyond the Great Wall still bit, but early signs of life could no longer be stopped.
Between dead branches and fallen leaves along the mountain road, tiny specks of green appeared.
Lu Yuan rode with a lamp slung to his side, light sweeping past the roadside.
In a sun-warmed hollow sheltered from the wind by a stream, several old willow trees stood silent.
They were the drought-resistant willows common beyond the Great Wall: thick trunks, bark cracked like an old palm.
On the gray-brown twigs, someone had already sprouted rice-grain-sized buds.
These buds were a delicate, pale yellow; under faint moonlight they looked like translucent jade beads timidly clinging to stiff branches.
They were neither lush summer green nor withered autumn brown.
They existed in a fragile yet tenacious state between life and death.
A mountain breeze passed and the twigs trembled. The buds swayed, seeming to test the still-cold air.
Watching this scene, the heavy oppression in Lu Yuan's chest loosened a little.
He remembered the winter when he first transmigrated.
On this very mountain road the old man had once been half-drunk, riding an awkward-legged donkey, singing off-key as he went.
Back then the willow trees were bare twigs moaning in the north wind,
very much like the old man upon the sickbed: aged, withered, seeming ready to snap under snow and wind.
Lu Yuan suddenly pulled his horse to a halt in front of the willow.
He reached out and touched a drooping twig.
Its bark was rough and cold, but the cluster of buds he brushed carried a faint, real vitality.
The tree budding was ordinary, yet it hid a profound meaning of the Dao's cycles.
Winter may be long and frozen soil hard, but as long as the roots live and a bit of yang returns, life will break free, unstoppable.
This applied not only to the old man, but to Lu Yuan himself.
Taking Xu Erxiao and Wang Cheng'an on this mission to clear the leftover poison from the Liu Family and restore order beyond the Wall
was like coaxing the first tender shoot out during this biting spring.
Lu Yuan was no longer the kid who lived under his master's wing.
He was now the backbone of Zhenlong Temple.
Even if his master had fallen and the great tree lay temporarily barren, Lu Yuan had to take the baton and hold up this world.
"Brother Lu, what's up?"
Xu Erxiao called back, puzzled at Lu Yuan's sudden stop.
Lu Yuan withdrew his hand, inhaled deeply, calming the emotions surging within.
"Nothing."
He jerked the reins and the black warhorse reared, letting out a snort.
"Go! Speed up!"
Before the words were done, Lu Yuan urged his mount and they flew into the deeper night.
Xu Erxiao and Wang Cheng'an exchanged a glance, unsure why, but also spurred their mounts and kept close.
Hooves clattered and startled a few hooded crows from the willow branches.
Those fresh pale-yellow buds whipped wildly in the wind kicked up by the horses.
That flash of green in the dark stubbornly announced life.
Spring had, in the end, arrived.
Three days later, night.
Blackwind Town, famous beyond the Wall, lay bathed in a dim yellow glow.
The town sat at a transport junction frequented by caravaners, hunters, and wandering martial folk.
Even in the small hours, the street still echoed with horse snorts and the shouts of drunkards.
The three rein in their mounts in front of an inn called Old Bian's.
The three gallant Mongolian steeds were breathing heavily, drenched in sweat.
Their coats were darkened under saddles; if they ran further they'd collapse.
"Here'll do."
Lu Yuan swung down, patted the sweat-damp neck of the black warhorse, dug a banknote from his chest, and tossed it to the approaching attendant.
"Feed them good stuff, groom their coats—don't shortchange them."
The attendant nodded repeatedly and hurried the horses to the stable.
Xu Erxiao rubbed his sore backside and grimaced,
"Finally here. Run another two days and I'd have bloomed."
Wang Cheng'an said nothing but quietly loosened his stiff limbs—he was clearly exhausted too.
They entered the inn's main hall. Though past mealtime it was still smoky and noisy.
Greasy round tables were full of men. The air smelled of cheap liquor, stewed meat, and sweat.
Lu Yuan found a corner by the wall, ordered three bowls of beef noodles and a plate of sauced bones.
When the food came they hungrily ate, replenishing the energy burned over the last three days.
At the next table, men wearing sheepskin coats tapped knuckles in a gambling game between mouthfuls, talking with slurred breaths.
Lu Yuan at first paid no attention, but one remark made him prick up his ears.
"...I tell you, brother, don't go near Wildman Ditch lately."
A toothless old hunter spoke in a low conspiratorial voice.
"Real creepy!"
A young horse trader across from him scoffed after a gulp,
"What spooky stuff?"
"Isn't it just a burial ground? We have many such places beyond the Wall. Can't be scarier than that mass grave, right?"
The old hunter glared and stuffed meat in his mouth, voice muffled,
"Hey, you don't know!"
"Not long ago, butcher Zhao's son—know him?"
"He was brave and didn't believe in ghost stories. He insisted on going to Wildman Ditch to fetch a few unclaimed heads and strip their clothes and shoes to sell... So what happened?"
The horse trader, intrigued, asked,
"What happened?"
The old hunter belched, squinted, and lowered his voice further.
"They went in during the day, three of them together."
"But by night only two crawled out."
"Butcher Zhao's son vanished!"
"The two who returned went dumb—only cried and said nothing. They burned with fever for three days; people performed soul-calling rites."
"When the fever finally broke, they crouched in a corner all day, muttering strange things..."
A gaunt man who'd been silent until now put in a thin, sinister voice,
"Not just that."
"My second uncle's old man lives by Wildman Ditch. He says lately in the small hours the ditch starts beating drums and horns, like a troupe performing a big show."
"But if you follow the sound, you won't find a soul; not even a ghost light."
The gaunt man hesitated, scanned the room to make sure no one nearby listened, and continued,
"And recently wild boars and black bears avoid the ditch like it's plague."
"On the night Butcher Zhao's son disappeared, someone saw a greenish light floating in the ditch—like a lantern but not really a lantern."
"It hovered midair and blinked, like an eye..."
When the gaunt man's tale ended, the horse trader cursed,
"Damn, got my spine tingling."
He poured himself another cup and tried to calm his nerves.
"That's why they posted notices—stay away from Wildman Ditch..."
The chatter around their table gradually fell beneath the gambling clatter. Xu Erxiao leaned in and whispered,
"Brother Lu, is that thing in Wildman Ditch going to fall apart?"
Wang Cheng'an said nothing but his eyes darkened with gravity.
Normally, the malevolent deity's place of worship would collapse after Liu Xuanyin died and no one maintained it.
But...
Could it happen so fast?
Lu Yuan remained silent. He cleaned the meat off a large bone with gusto, then tossed the bare bone on the table.
Rubbing his belly, patting his full stomach, he said with satisfaction,
"Eat well and rest early."
"At first light tomorrow, we'll go into Wildman Ditch and deal with that 'troup'."
"Handle it!"